


Half-Baked Half-Works

by I May Age Regress (shnuffeluv)



Series: Gibbs' Family [82]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Age Play, Gen, Non-Sexual Age Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21713479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/I%20May%20Age%20Regress
Summary: All the half-finished ideas that were going to be put inGibbs' Family.
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs & Everyone
Series: Gibbs' Family [82]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/495577
Comments: 23
Kudos: 34





	1. Finding a Niche

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the last work, you all are free to use this universe as a playground. If you want to use any of these half-finished stories, by all means, be my guest.

Katie stood at the edge of Abby's lab, biting her lip. It was the end of the day, but Abby still seemed busy, and she probably wouldn't want to deal with Katie's problems. It hurt to think about, but Abby probably had better things to do. Even though they knew each other regressed, they didn't really talk about it at all. Abby turned and saw her, and her whole face lit up. "Hey, Kate! I was just about to lock up for the night! How are you doing?"

Now or never, Katie reasoned. "I'm...okay," she said slowly. "I have a question for you, though. About you and Ducky and your...relationship."

"Oh." Abby ushered Katie inside her lab and closed the door behind her. "Yeah, of course. What are you wondering?"

"Well, it's just..." Katie wrung her fingers and grimaced. "You and he seem really close. And it's not like Dad and I aren't close or anything like that, you know? But I don't always feel...like myself around him. There are times where it's really easy for me to talk, and we just go back and forth, and it feels natural, but then there are times where it doesn't. And sometimes it makes me feel awkward and weird. Like, he did this with Tony for years before I came into the picture, so obviously he'll be closer with Tony, but..."

"But you want to feel close to him too?" Abby filled in.

Katie nodded. "And I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don't know what to do, because it's making me lose sleep. Or lose more sleep than normal, I mean."

"Well," Abby said, worrying her lip. "There is the fact that I'm Ducky's only kid. And we've been doing this for about as long as Tony and Gibbs have. So of course we're going to be closer. You can't force these things, you know?"

"But is there any way to make it feel more natural?" Katie asked. "Just things that you do when you...don't know what to do?"

"Usually I just talk about things I like," Abby said with a shrug. "Like, you know _Harry Potter_? I'll tell Ducky all about it. And he'll nod along even though I know he doesn't really get it. What do you like to do?"

"Well, I like _Harry Potter_ too..." Katie shook her head. "And I guess I like dolls, and when Dad tells stories that's pretty fun. But I don't have anything that's really...mine. It's always me and Tony sharing stuff."

"Well, there's your problem!" Abby exclaimed. "You just need to find your own niche!"

"You think so?" Katie asked.

"I totally think so!" Abby said. "If you're sharing everything with Tony, then there are going to be times where he isn't there and it'll feel awkward, because he controls most of what you do! It's not a bad thing, little kids just do that sometimes, but if you find a place that you're comfortable with that Tony doesn't do, then that can be your niche. And it's something you can do with Gibbs and everything will work out!"

Katie was a little skeptical about the "everything will work out" part, but she wanted to believe it, so she nodded and smiled. "Thanks, Abby."

"Anything for my partner in crime!" Abby said, hugging her.


	2. Extreme Prejudice

Gibbs didn't know what to think when the bomb went off. He had gone to Abby, knowing that she was the closest to the bomb and also probably the last person who would be likely to leave on time. But on an emotional level, he felt like he could never forgive himself for leaving McGee and DiNozzo and Ziva to get through this themselves. Gibbs took one last look at Abby, sitting on the edge of an ambulance while being checked for a concussion and smiling at him. Then he turned away, fully intent on finding his team.

The conversation between the SecNav and Vance took entirely too long. Gibbs searched frantically though the crowds of people for his team. DiNozzo, McGee, Ziva...they _had_ to be okay. Finding no one, he ran into the building, still looking desperately for his people. He headed immediately for the stairs, on autopilot. He would work from the squad room down to the designated exits.

He went up step after step after step, body moving too slow for his mind to be satisfied with his pace. He ran out of the stairwell and rounded the corner to the squad room, heart skipping a beat when he saw a familiar black leather jacket hanging onto a familiar man standing in the middle of the bullpen. He made his way over, avoiding shattered glass and plaster underfoot, needing to make sure that McGee was all right.

Dust was still hanging in the air, making Gibbs cough. Eyes glazed over and distant, Timmy turned toward Gibbs, and it was clear that when he said, "Boss?" he was trying his absolute hardest to be big, and failing.

"You okay?" The words tumbled out of Gibbs' mouth like they had been held hostage.

Timmy looked to the ground in thought. "Uh, yeah, I think so," he responded.

Gibbs shook his head and looked around. All that worry, and Timmy was nothing more than a little shocked. "Where's Tony and Ziva?" he asked, moving to his desk.

"Um...elevator. Workers are on it," Timmy responded.

Gibbs tried the phone to see if he could call DiNozzo or Ziva to make sure she was all right, but he got no signal. He bit back the growl in the back of his throat.

"It feels really warm in here...I think I'm gonna go get some fresh air," Timmy breathed out.

Gibbs' eyes flicked up when Timmy started to move, but they froze at the boy's abdomen as he was taking off his jacket. _Holy crap. No, no, no. Holy CRAP._ "Hey! Stop," Gibbs instructed walking over.

Timmy froze taking off his jacket and turned back, confused. "What?"

Gibbs looked meaningfully at the boy's abdomen before his face and down again as Timmy checked what was wrong for the first time. And there, embedded in his side, was a huge shard of glass, at least six inches long, with blood already starting to stain the boy's white shirt. Gibbs looked up as Timmy looked to him. The boy's breathing quickened and all he could manage to say was a very soft, very worried, "Uh-oh."

Gibbs brought his hand up to the boy's cheek and looked up to MTAC, wondering very briefly if there were paramedics up there, before deciding it was better not to risk taking Timmy up the stairs. "Cover your ears, kiddo, things are about to get loud," Gibbs murmured.

Timmy did so and Gibbs turned toward the elevator and stairs yelling, "We've got a problem up here, we need the paramedics ASAP!"

Someone ran out of the room and Timmy had his eyes squeezed shut tight, hands flattening his ears. He had already started humming in a panic.

"Hey, hey, kiddo, deep breaths," Gibbs instructed. "Take deep breaths, you're gonna be fine, all right?"

"No," Timmy said. "No, no, no, I'm gonna die, I don't wanna die!"

"You're not gonna die, kiddo, not if I have a say in it. We caught this early, so it's more likely you'll be fine anyway. You won't die, you understand? You're fine." Gibbs tried to keep his breathing level, his voice calm. Truth be told, he almost didn't believe what he was saying. But Timmy needed to hear it, he needed to believe everything was gonna be fine.


	3. Little Sister

Gibbs sighed. They had just wrapped up the whole debacle with Parsa, and he couldn't deny it now; Bishop, however begrudgingly, could be trusted. Which meant that he couldn't fight against his boys when they said they wanted to tell Bishop about their after-hours regression. He knew it had been hard on them when Ziva left, and the change left them off balance for a while, even causing the occasional slip-up at work when it came to being big. It was a relief that Bishop hadn't yet caught on to them, or if she had she hadn't confronted any of them about it.

The end of the day was fast approaching and Gibbs glanced at Bishop, absorbed with whatever she was doing on her phone. He then glanced at DiNozzo and McGee. DiNozzo was shaking slightly and occasionally yawning, and Gibbs didn't need to be a trained investigator to know that he was exhausted and in need of a night off. McGee looked okay, albeit a little distracted, as the second Gibbs looked over McGee looked up. He glanced over to Bishop and arched an eyebrow. _Are you gonna tell her?_

Gibbs was proud to this day that McGee had caught on to his silent communication as quick as he did. In response, Gibbs shrugged, and glanced between DiNozzo and McGee. _Maybe. Do you think you two are ready?_

McGee offered a small grin before writing something on a piece of paper, balling it up, and tossing it onto DiNozzo's desk. Bishop looked up at the movement and DiNozzo wordlessly opened the paper. He arched his eyebrows and cheered, "Seriously?! Yes!"

Bishop played with her phone as she asked mildly, "Good news?"

"Best news I've gotten in a while," he said triumphantly. "I've been ready for this for weeks!"

Bishop frowned. "What is it?"

Gibbs leaned back in his chair. "You can see it, if you want? It's at my house."

"Your house? Why would...something that Tony has been looking forward to be at your house?" Bishop asked.

"Find out for yourself," McGee said, leaning back and grabbing his coat. "It's five, I'm out of here."

"Ooh, you know what? Me too," DiNozzo said, following suit.

Gibbs resisted the urge to laugh as he stood up himself. "I have a feeling everyone's coming to my house tonight? Might have to get groceries tomorrow, but I have enough food for dinner."

"Wait--but--what--I thought you guys were gonna start telling me what's going on?!" Bishop protested.

"This isn't a conversation for work," McGee said, speed-walking to the elevator.

DiNozzo didn't even try to be subtle as he ran and said, "But if you come with us you can find out!"

"But...but...I don't even know where Gibbs' house is?!" she called after them.

"I can drive you," Gibbs volunteered. "Or just give you the address and you can use your...phone thingy to get there. Whatever McGee was talking about the other day...a nap?"

"You mean an app?" Bishop asked, standing herself. "I think with the way those two are acting I'd rather drive myself. I know you three carpool sometimes and going by the fact you're walking out when they are tonight's one of those nights."

Gibbs actually laughed at that. "Fair point. Should I give you my address?"

At Bishop's agreement Gibbs told her, before heading to the elevator himself, which closed just as he was stepping in. Tony was already waiting, bouncing on his toes to refrain from jumping, and McGee was wavering, Gibbs could already tell. "She's coming over," he informed them. "Best behavior, all right, boys?"

Tony nodded seriously and McGee followed suit. Gibbs turned to the door of the elevator and walked out as it opened, the other two hot on his heels. "Didja tell her yet?" Tony asked.

"Nope, just gave her my address. You two were impatient enough I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have lasted if I explained at the office."

"You explained it to Ziva at the office," McGee pointed out.

"And we explained to _you_ at my house. There's no real formula here, McGee. It's just what's convenient or what's necessary," Gibbs explained.

McGee-or more accurately, Timmy-pouted. "But formulas make _sense_. If it's random it _doesn't_ make sense!"

Gibbs shrugged. "Well do you want me to wait until tomorrow?" he asked.

"No..." Timmy admitted sullenly.

"Then we'll tell her at my place, kiddo," Gibbs said. "Things don't always have to be in patterns to make sense."

" _That_ makes no sense," Timmy said skeptically.

Gibbs grinned. "Maybe it will one day."

"Doubtful," Timmy said.

Gibbs laughed as they walked outside. "Maybe it will, maybe it won't. That's not the point tonight," he said.

Timmy grumbled but didn't further the debate. Tony nudged him and asked him a few questions about Bishop and Timmy perked up, enjoying speculating on how Bishop might react. All good scenarios, of course, because the two didn't want to consider rejection, and Gibbs knew it. He doubted Bishop would run away screaming, but he wasn't expecting an overwhelmingly positive reaction either.

He got both boys to the car and drove them out to his house quickly, wanting to have a little time to prepare before Bishop arrived. Tony and Timmy didn't seem to mind the fast pace, or at the very least they didn't complain. All three of them got out of the car and into the house quickly. Tony went right up the stairs to the nursery to get ready, but Timmy hesitated. Gibbs looked him over to make sure he was all right. Timmy hadn't hesitated in getting ready to play since the last time someone new was introduced into the equation. "Hey," Gibbs said softly. "Go get ready. You and Tony were talking, you said yourself Bishop wouldn't find this weird, so there's no reason to worry, right?"

Timmy looked like he wanted to argue, to say _But that doesn't change my anxiety_ , but Gibbs just gently nudged him towards the steps. "Go ahead. I'll take care of it."

Timmy nodded and walked upstairs. Gibbs held his breath. Would his boys come downstairs first, or would Bishop arrive first? And just what was he going to say if she freaked? He had just made up his mind to allow her on the team, would he have to take that all away from her if she responded negatively to this?

All good questions, all of which would have to wait. Tony and Timmy came bounding down the stairs as Bishop's car pulled up. The two boys immediately went over to their toy chests and debated what games they should play.


	4. Always Family First

DiNozzo had a problem. A problem he wasn't sure he knew what to do with. A problem he couldn't fix. A problem that left a two-year-old in his care with him having no idea what the first step of taking care of her might be. Okay, that was a lie. He had a few ideas on keeping her entertained, and he knew how to change a diaper, more or less, and he could make food that he was convinced she could eat if only she was willing. And of course over the years, Gibbs had taught him a thing or two about parenting, however unorthodox that parenting was. Yeah, the problem was more what to do with the two-year old now that he was a single dad and he had no idea what he was going to do for work, where he was going to live now that he needed two bedrooms, or who he needed to talk to in order to sort everything out.

He needed someone to talk to. Not to just have a conversation with, not to process his feelings, but _talk_ to, about the future and what exactly his plans were going to be. Which meant he probably should talk to Gibbs, much as it pained him. Because everyone else would _definitely_ try and convince him to stay, but Gibbs would try and support him no matter what his final decision was. And not even his dad, who he had finally gotten on agreeable terms with, so much so that DiNozzo would trust him with Tali while out figuring out the plan, would be able to provide him the insight he desperately needed.

And that's how he found himself grabbing his coat that night, telling his dad that he needed to clear his head, and heading out to Gibbs'. He forced himself to relax in the car, going over what he might say to Gibbs, as it became clearer and clearer to him that he actually knew what he was going to do. He couldn't stay here, where all his enemies were out looking for him, not while he was trying to get adjusted to taking care of Tali. He'd probably move, maybe to Paris, just for a bit. Paris was nice, he'd always wanted to retire around there. But how would he break the news to everyone else? And how would he get a job there? He had made a few friends over the years, maybe he could call in some favors and get an interview at Interpol. But there was so much to figure out, in such a short amount of time.

When he pulled up to the old house he knew exactly where he was headed. He didn't bother taking off his coat or his shoes, not yet. Gibbs would be in his basement, because no one had said they were coming over tonight. And he didn't feel like picking out a splinter with tears of frustration in his eyes in the early hours of the morning.

Sure enough, when he walked downstairs Gibbs was there, working on his boat, the boat that somehow would miraculously make it out of the basement eventually. Not the boat inspired by his drawing all those years ago, but a successor to that one. And the fact that DiNozzo might never know how it got out of the basement, might never get to see the ship sail, because he was moving away...it made his heart hurt.

He knew Gibbs wouldn't forget him. He _knew_ that. Gibbs had _taught_ him that. He may be gone, but he would never be forgotten. And that did, admittedly, bring him a small amount of comfort. But if you put up small comforts next to big worries, it did little to help solve problems.

DiNozzo stood at the bottom of the steps in silence, letting Gibbs be the one to say the first word. "You're leaving."

"Yeah," DiNozzo said. "Can't stay. It's too dangerous for her, and I need to find a place that can house both of us, in separate rooms."

"Makes sense," Gibbs agreed. "I won't stop you."

Despite himself, DiNozzo felt disappointment. He didn't realize he wanted Gibbs to put up a fight, to convince him to stay, to tell him he was too important to go. What he said instead was a simple, "Thanks."

"Got any idea where you're going? Or is that where you coming to me factors in?" Gibbs asked.

"This is where I want your opinion, Boss," DiNozzo agreed. "I figure I'm probably taking her, Tali, to Paris. Ziva loves... _loved_ Paris. I always wanted to retire there. No one would know me, it's a completely fresh start, and I have a few friends overseas who I'm sure would love me working at Interpol in some way. I need to continue doing some sort of work like that, I'd go stir crazy otherwise."

"Instructor might be a good job for you to consider," Gibbs offered up. "I know you could do that here, too, but you want that fresh start, you should go get it."

DiNozzo sighed. He wanted to cry, just show that little bit of vulnerability. To ask _you're not even going to fight for me to stay?_ but he knew. Gibbs wanted to support him. They both knew DiNozzo felt valued, and Gibbs didn't want to tear him down from a difficult decision. That's why DiNozzo came here, after all. He didn't want someone to convince him to stay. He wanted the support to leave. "You know," he said after some time had passed. "You're the one who taught me how to be a dad. I don't know how I'm going to balance Tali's needs and mine, not yet, but everything I learned about taking care of a kid...I learned from you."

Gibbs smiled. "Well, I'm glad I did something right."

"You did a lot of things right," DiNozzo said, sniffling. "Don't sell yourself short."

"Aw, Tony..." Gibbs said, walking over and hugging him. "It's going to be okay."


	5. Finding Home

Gibbs was reading quietly to Timmy when he heard a soft knock at his door. He didn't bother getting up to answer it, he had told Quinn and Torres earlier that his door was always unlocked. If it was them, they'd enter themselves. And sure enough, the door swung open and Quinn and Torres walked in. Well, Quinn walked in. Torres skulked in the entryway once the door was closed and made no move to go into the house any further. Gibbs nodded in greeting and finished the last page of the story before closing the book he had been reading. Timmy, buried in Gibbs side with his eyes half-closed, whined. "That's the end of the story, kiddo," Gibbs murmured. "Besides, there are people here who wanna see you."

"Nooo..." Timmy whined, sitting up anyway and rubbing his eyes.

Gibbs chuckled. "I know, you're very tired. But Torres and Quinn are here, like they said they would be."

"Hm?" Timmy asked, turning to look toward the entryway. He perked up when he saw Quinn and Torres. "Oh! Hi!" he chirped.

Quinn covered her mouth but Gibbs could tell she was holding back an _aw._ Torres just looked incredibly uncomfortable. Gibbs stood up and Timmy whirled his head around. "Where are you goin'?" he asked.

"Ellie needs another bottle, or at least a pacifier," Gibbs said, tilting his head towards Ellie, who was working on a puzzle with an empty bottle next to her legs. "And then I have to make dinner."

"But..." Timmy said, before frowning and staring at the floor, looking for his words. "It hurts my head to read, but I want more stories."

"I can read to you, if you'd like," Quinn offered.

Gibbs turned towards her, saying, "You don't have to--"

"--It's fine," Quinn waved off. "Makes me feel less like a useless lump."

Timmy giggled and pressed a fist against his mouth, flapping his free hand rapidly. Quinn blinked. "Ah! That's the...the thing! The thing he does at work sometimes! Thought it meant something!"

"It means 'm happy," Timmy said, as Quinn sat next to him. "'S called stimming, and Papa says that it's a good thing."

"Yeah? Well it seems to make you happy at work, so I would say it's a good thing too," Quinn said.

"It doesn't _make_ me happy, at least not all the time," Timmy corrected. "It's...a, uh...indicator? Regulator! It regulates my emotions. I can do it sad or nervous too, and it makes me feel better then."

"Even better," Quinn said, picking up a book from the table. "Have you read this one yet tonight?"

Timmy shook his head and curled up on the couch as Quinn opened it and started to read. Gibbs turned to Ellie and tickled her lightly under her chin. "Hey, I'm gonna get you a pacifier, since dinner's about to be served, okay? Don't cry on me if you get hungry."

"I won't," Ellie promised. She stuck her hand in one of the over-sized pockets on her shorts. "An' I already got a paci."

"Okay, then I'll be in the kitchen making dinner if you need anything," Gibbs said.

He went into the kitchen and Torres followed him. "Don't feel like playing out there?" Gibbs asked.

"Not really," Torres said. "Maybe make sure they don't kill themselves, but Quinn can do that too."

Gibbs laughed. "Yeah, I guess she can. Feeling a bit out of your depth here?"

"Well, considering I've only ever seen this used as foreplay, yeah, a little," Torres said.

"Never understood that side of things when it comes to my kids," Gibbs said casually, going to the refrigerator and looking over what they had, eventually deciding to pull out bread, cheese, and just a bit of butter. "You fine with grilled cheese?"

"Sure. Quinn might need a Lactaid, though."

"I think Fornell left some of those around here," Gibbs said absently. "It shouldn't be hard to find and then our problem's solved."

Gibbs had just pulled out a pan when Ellie came bounding into the kitchen. "Daddy! Daddy!" she said in an excited whisper.

"What happened, sweetheart?" Gibbs asked.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him out into the living room, where he had to stop himself from laughing. Timmy was passed out cold on Quinn's shoulder, and Quinn was the perfect picture of surprise, trying not to shake in her own laughter. "Is this normal?" she asked Gibbs in a low whisper.

"No, this is the concussion," Gibbs said, walking forward to the couch. "And he's not supposed to sleep for a couple more hours, so someone needs to get up."

As soon as he said those words. Timmy grimaced and whined. Gibbs laughed, lightly shaking the boy's shoulder. "No, no, none of that. You have to be up. And I'm sure our guest would appreciate her shoulder back."

Timmy sat up and rubbed at his eyes, grunting a question before blinking awake and seeing Quinn. He yelped and jumped a foot on the couch, yelling, "What year is it?!"

Gibbs nearly fell into hysterics, and almost cried when Ellie shouted back, "Twenty-sixteen!"

"Then why is _she_ here?!" Timmy asked, pointing at Quinn.

"She works with us!" Ellie replied in the same loud voice.

"Oh." Timmy blinked once, before recognition grew on his face. " _Ohhhhh_. You work with us!"

Quinn was shaking in laughter, tears streaming down her face, and she held up a hand before nodding. "Yeah. Yeah I do."

Gibbs grinned despite himself before schooling a serious expression on his face. "Timmy?"

The boy turned to him expectantly.

"Indoor voice, please," Gibbs reminded.

"Oh. Right. Sorry," Timmy said.

"That was...that was something," Torres said from behind Gibbs, chuckling. "You really could use some time off from that concussion, _hermanito_."

Timmy blinked, frowning. "I didn't take Spanish in high school, I took French. What's that mean?"

"Little brother," Ellie translated, grinning.

Timmy looked the picture of offended, and Quinn was limp sideways in her laughter as Timmy protested, "I am _not_ little!"

"Little to me," Torres said innocently.

"You kinda are," Quinn said, gasping as she sat up. "You have that whole 'kid brother' thing going on."

"I'll have you know I've been the oldest for eleven years!" Timmy said. "I'm not little!"

"Little to a ten year old," Nick rebutted. "And, considering that's about where I stand in this sort of thing, your record's a little bit screwed."

Ellie lit up. "Nick said a bad word!"

Quinn made a soft _ooh_ sound as Gibbs turned to look at Nick. "Please watch your language around the young children, if for no one else."

"That include you?" Nick asked, grinning.

"Careful," Gibbs said, holding up a finger. "I'd hate to have you be stuck playing with a kindergartner's toys because you couldn't keep your mouth shut."

"I've been told Timmy has some pretty cool RVs, I could live," Nick said with a shrug.

"For a whole month?" Gibbs challenged.

Nick held up his hands in surrender. "Point made."

Quinn looked Torres up and down. "So, you've done this before?"

"Not _this_..." Nick said, waving a hand around. "...Persay. But I do know where I was comfortable undercover, and this age was it."

"Huh," Quinn said. "Think you could gauge where I'm comfortable?"

Nick squinted. "Well, I think it would be funny if you were just around a toddler age..."

Timmy laughed and Alex shoved him sideways on the couch. "No way. I'm at least older than this goofball."

"Are not!" Timmy protested.

"Are so!" Alex shot back.

"Are not!"

"Are so!"

"Are not!"

"Shut up!" Alex said.

" _You_ shut up!" Timmy fired back.

"Play nice, you two," Gibbs warned. "I still have to make dinner."

Timmy stuck his tongue out at Alex and she laughed. "Okay, see, I'm at _least_ more mature than you because I don't do _that_."

"Fine. _Be_ boring then," Timmy said, crossing his arms, still on his side on the couch. "But I was the oldest for eleven years!"

"Yeah," Nick acknowledged. "...And then we showed up."

Timmy stuck his tongue out at Nick and Nick just laughed. "Play nice," Gibbs repeated. "I have to make dinner still."

"Any chance I could help?" Nick asked.

"Sure," Gibbs said. "You could save me some time cutting the sandwiches, and if you promise to be careful I might let you handle the pan."

Nick nodded and walked to the kitchen, but Gibbs turned to Alex first. "I'd say six, but that's just me." Without another word, he walked out. Nick was already heating up the stove and greasing the pan. "You planning on starting without me?" Gibbs asked.

"Nah, but I figured you might want the stove warmed up, and I know enough to keep my hand away from the burner," Nick shrugged. "Gotta get used to me being independent, huh?"

Gibbs walked over and put a light amount of butter on two slices of bread, putting them in the pan with a slice of cheese between them. "Never taken care of someone that old before," Gibbs said. "Even when I'd babysit, the oldest I usually dealt with was eight."

Nick laughed. "No teenagers?"

"Teenagers can look after themselves, so, no," Gibbs said, shaking his head.

"Shame," Nick said. "You might be better equipped to handle me if you were."

"That a challenge?" Gibbs asked, laughing.

"Little bit." Nick shrugged. "Take it as you will."

Gibbs took the finished sandwich out of the pan and Nick prepared another for him. "So why were you so uncomfortable with what happened today?" Gibbs asked.

"I thought--"

"I know what you thought. We cleared that up and you still felt uncomfortable. I'm letting you do whatever feels right to you and you're still on guard, stiff as a board. Do you not feel this is safe?" Gibbs asked.

Nick shrugged. "It's hard to unlearn some things you pick up undercover. And this is just another mask I have to put on. I'm never safe when I have to wear a mask."

Gibbs sighed, shaking his head. "The whole point of this is to put all those masks aside, Nick, not to put another on just to fit in. If you don't agree with something, you're not obliged to nod along and go with it. You can argue, you can get upset. You're allowed to say things here you wouldn't otherwise. This isn't the same for everyone, and if you want to do something different than the others, that's okay. Don't put on a mask just to follow along with everyone else. This is supposed to be a release, not a facade."

Nick considered this information, his face unreadable. Gibbs continued making dinner, and was nearly done when Nick finally spoke up. "So if I were interested in something the others weren't, that would be okay?"

"Provided it's not violent and it doesn't hurt them," Gibbs said.

Nick nodded, going silent again for another minute. Just when Gibbs assumed the conversation was over, Nick said, "I like beads."

"Beads?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah. Pony beads. I like making kandi. The stuff some people wear at raves?" Nick asked, clarifying. "I like designing it, and it's soothing to make. I would make cuffs and masks sometimes undercover to keep calm. I picked up the habit around high school; when I got stressed I would make kandi, and the only thing I'd have to worry about for a while was how much string I needed and if I had enough beads for a project."

Gibbs nodded, continuing to work on dinner. "Well, then I'll look up some sites to buy beads in bulk, if you want. Provided you keep Ellie from choking on them, you can make as much as you want. I bet Timmy would be fascinated by the process."

"You think so?" Nick asked. "He wouldn't judge?"

"That's not what this is about," Gibbs said, shaking his head. "He respects unconventional methods of keeping calm. He'll stim 'til the cows come home if he gets worked up enough; he'll understand it calms you and he might even want to try himself to see if he can 'get it'."

Nick wrinkled his nose. "I doubt he'd have the patience to make a cuff, let alone a mask."

"Maybe so," Gibbs allowed. "But he wants to understand everything-kids at that age often do-and he might be able to make a patterned single bracelet with his name on it."

"I could do that _for_ him, it's so easy it would take me five minutes!" Nick exclaimed. "Kandi is an art, he wouldn't understand."

Gibbs shrugged. "Well, it's up to you if you want to share it with him, but I guarantee if you include him in whatever you're doing, it becomes one thousand times more meaningful to him."

Nick grunted in acknowledgement. "Whatever, I guess I'll sleep on it," he allowed. "But he can't take any beads I've already got stored up for a project."

Gibbs laughed. "Of course not," he said. "You want to tell the others dinner is ready? I'll put out some chips on everyone's plate if they're hungry after the sandwich, and because it's a special occasion I might break out the ice cream."

There was a soft " _Yes!_ " from the living room and Nick frowned. "Timmy has...really good hearing."

"I know," Gibbs said. "He hears his name and he'll listen in on an entire conversation to make sure he's not being badmouthed. And he has issues with sugar, so he usually is very limited with its intake after around seven PM."

Nick checked the time. "It's eight-thirty."

"Yup," Gibbs said, putting the sandwiches on individual plates. "Which is why this would be a treat for him. You gonna tell the others dinner is ready or should I?"

Nick shrugged and walked out of the kitchen, so Gibbs started setting up the table. Timmy poked his head into the dining room. "Did you mean what you said about ice cream?"

"Uh-huh. But only if you can do one really important thing for me," Gibbs said.

"What?" Timmy asked.

"Fornell left some of his medicine behind, it lets people eat stuff with milk in it who wouldn't be able to otherwise. I need you to find it and give one to Alex."

Timmy nodded and disappeared as soon as he was there. Gibbs moved back to the kitchen and brought out chips, to find Ellie already sitting at her spot expectantly. "I heard food," she said.

Gibbs chuckled and nodded. "Food will be out in a minute, sweetheart. We have to wait for everyone else first."


	6. Vance

Gibbs was sitting on the floor with Ellie, playing Mancala with her to keep her occupied until it was time to go to bed. Nick was working in the dining room with his kandi, and Alex didn't feel like playing big-sister to her little sister tonight and was talking with Timmy on the couch over some cartoon they were watching...Steven something-or-other. All in all, it was an ordinary night after a stressful day, and he was completely blindsided by the familiar voice of Vance from the door saying, "I hope I'm not interrupting something."

The house was silent for ten seconds, by Gibbs' count, before Timmy hummed in a panic, leaping from the couch and sprinting to the back door. Alex called after him and followed him, while Ellie just stared, wide-eyed as the Director of NCIS stood at their doorstep. Nick looked at Vance, looked at Gibbs, at pointed toward the back door. "Uh, someone ran out the back door. Alex is on the back porch yelling, but I doubt Timmy's hiding back there."

"So...I am interrupting," Vance deadpanned.

"A little," Gibbs sighed, standing up. "What do you need?"

Vance took a step forward into the living room. "I think that takes second to your explanation for _what_ , exactly, is going on here?!"

Ellie jumped behind Gibbs at the loud noise and he sighed. "Actually, _that_ takes second to figuring out where McGee is. If he's in the yard, then I can explain. If he's not, he might wind up getting run over by a car if he's not careful, or if he _is_ , he'll take the Metro to his apartment, barricade himself in, and we won't see him for...oh, probably four days. Minimum."

Vance licked his lips, looked around the house, and sighed. "Well then, we'd better get looking."

Gibbs turned, picked up Ellie and settled her on his hip, before nodding for Nick to move to the back of the house. He could sense Vance's eyes on him as he walked. Alex was panting on the porch, leaning on the banister. "I tried to calm him down and keep him in the yard, but he practically _vaulted_ the gate. He's gone," she panted.

"Crap," Gibbs breathed. "Okay, all right. We're gonna go inside, get some flashlights, and spread out. Focus on different routes to the nearest bus station, maybe?"

Nick ran inside and came back out with five flashlights, passing them out. "I'll work my way to the bus station," he volunteered.

"Alex, go with him," Gibbs instructed. "Ellie and I can search up by the school."

"What can I do?" Vance asked.

Gibbs hesitated. "We need someone to stay close to the house if he decides to come back. Don't try to corner him, just make sure you know where he is if you see him. Call us if he shows up."

Vance nodded once and Gibbs opened the back gate to the yard, turning his flashlight on and following the indentations in the mud of Timmy's bare feet. He knew the second they reached pavement he'd have some guesswork in front of him, but for now he followed the path between the fenced-in backyards of the neighborhood.

It was nearly pitch black during the search; the sun having set long ago. Only the half-moon and a handful of stars were offering lighting in addition to Gibbs' flashlight. Ellie was looking around desperately, occasionally calling out, "Timmy!" when she thought she might have heard something.

Halfway to the school, Gibbs' cell phone rang. His heart nearly stopped when he saw Vance's caller ID. "Did you see him?"

"I did one better; I somehow got him back inside," Vance said. "I assume he's asking for you, though I've only ever heard him call you 'Papa' before when drugged."

"Long story, I'll be right back," Gibbs said, turning around and whispering to Ellie, "Hold on tight," before he dead-sprinted down the sidewalk by memory to his street, nearly flinging himself through his yard, up the front porch, and into the house, to find Timmy half-curled up on the couch, head in Vance's lap and feet dangling over the arm rest on the opposite side as Vance ran his fingers through Timmy's hair. Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief and put Ellie down on the floor as he walked over. "You," he said, pointing to Timmy, "Are in _huge_ trouble."

Timmy looked up from where he was resting on the couch. "For running?" he asked.

"No, for getting mud on the couch," Gibbs replied sarcastically. "Yes, for running! I thought you knew better by now! Running always gets you nowhere fast!"

Timmy blinked, frowning. "I came back though," he said.

"The problem isn't not coming back, it's leaving in the first place! Nothing good _ever_ happens when you run out of here like that!" Gibbs sighed. "Don't move, I'm getting a towel to clean up your feet."

Alex and Nick ran into the house and Gibbs jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he walked past them, up the stairs, and grabbed a hand towel from under the bathroom sink, wetting it.

When he came back downstairs, Nick had brought his kandi project into the living room and was working on it in Gibbs' armchair, Alex was keeping Ellie occupied while both were sparing glances at Vance, and Timmy looked half-asleep. Without warning, Timmy turned his head so he was more-or-less facing the ceiling, looked Vance dead in the eye, and said, "Sorry about lying that morning after I was drugged, I really didn't know how to explain everything without getting in trouble."

Vance just leveled him with a _you've got to be kidding me look_. "I think we passed the threshold for apologies about that twenty minutes ago."

Timmy settled down again and wisely said nothing. Gibbs walked over and commandeered Timmy's legs, using the towel to wipe off as much mud and dirt and gravel on his feet as possible. When that was done, Gibbs got up, threw the towel in the laundry room in the back, and came back to the living room with a sigh. "All right. Now that we've resolved _that_ problem--"

Vance held up a hand. "I'm going to stop you right there, and explain the situation as I see it to you. Stop me when you see a problem."

Gibbs crossed his arms and nodded his permission for Vance to continue.

"You're essentially fathering your agents in the off-hours, at which point your SFA becomes the extremely jumpy ball of nerves he most likely was when he first joined, a former NSA analyst does basically nothing but play board games, and your two newest agents are either beading or playing babysitter, all while you make dinner for them and make sure they don't kill each other."

Gibbs squinted, before nodding and saying, "Yup, Leon, that about covers it."

"Gibbs, what the he--"

"Not around young ears!" Timmy exclaimed, putting a hand over Vance's mouth.

Gibbs tried to hide his laughter but was doing it very poorly. Vance calmly took Timmy's hand from his mouth and said. "What the _heck_ are you playing at?"

With a shrug, Gibbs looked around. "Usually whatever the kids want to play that night."

" _Gibbs,_ " Vance warned.

"It's called age regression. Tony did it, Kate did it, Ziva helped take care of the boys, and it generally helps with stress from the day, or in some cases allows a chance at a better childhood than the first one they had." Gibbs nodded at Timmy. "That one had a lot of issues to be worked through, but he's come along nicely from it."

Vance looked at Timmy and Timmy looked up at him, face revealing nothing. "He listened for the most part once I made it clear I wasn't going to fire him."

"Yeah, he would have kept running and most likely had a panic attack in the middle of some unknown street his first year here," Gibbs laughed. "Like I said, he's come along nicely."

"And the others?" Vance asked.

"Nick had some...questionable knowledge about similar things to this after an undercover op but generally uses it to relax, Alex usually regresses due to stress surrounding her mother, and Ellie just likes to be able to stick things in her mouth," Gibbs said with a shrug.

Vance chuckled. "Now that _does_ sound familiar..."

Gibbs nodded. "Why did you come here?"

"Well, I was going to ask you why your team was functioning differently than every other team in the office, but I think I found my answer," Vance said.

"You want us to stop?" Gibbs asked.

Vance took a breath. "Well, I can't exactly accuse you of nepotism and you appear to treat everyone equally and fairly both inside the office and out, not to mention this most likely improves the overall trust and function of the team, so no. I'm not going to request you stop. But we never had this conversation."

"But...you _did_ have that conversation," Timmy pointed out.

"Uh, kiddo, he just means this was off the record," Gibbs chuckled.

"Oh." He turned to Vance. "Well why didn't you just _say_ that?!"

Vance took a breath, and Gibbs was ready to intervene when Vance asked, "You know, that's a good question. Why do _you_ think I said that?"

Timmy blinked and frowned. "You're...asking my opinion?" he clarified.

"Mhm," Vance hummed, face showing the barest traces of amusement.

Timmy sat up and smoothed down his hair. "Um...it reminds me of all those spy movies Tony would make me watch. 'You didn't see anything' and all that. We're not spies, though."

"No, we're not," Vance agreed. "Any other reasons?"

"Um...no," Timmy said, standing up from the couch. "Just that one. Trying to be sneaky about saying it's off the record."

Gibbs held a hand out when Timmy was about to leave his line of sight. "Where are you going?"

"I have to pee," Timmy said, before removing himself from the room.

"Hey, _hermanito_!" Nick called. "Get down here fast enough and I'll help you make another bracelet to stim with!"

Timmy's muffled _"Okay!"_ made Gibbs smile. It was clear from Vance's small chuckle that he heard it as well.

"Is he always like that?" Vance asked.

"Only on the good nights, which is almost every night," Gibbs said with a shrug. "On the bad ones...well, we don't talk about those often if at all...for good reason."


	7. In a Pinch

Vance had intended to go home that evening early, but meeting after meeting left him behind on paperwork, and by the time he was done it was eight o'clock in the evening. Still, he supposed, it was better late than never. He was walking past the MCRT bullpen when he heard soft sniffling, and paused. The last time he had heard that was when McGee had gone undercover in that BDSM place and had apparently regressed. And this sounded eerily similar. "Agent McGee?" he asked.

The sniffling stopped, only confirming Vance's suspicions. He put down his briefcase on McGee's desk and rounded it, finding the man curled up in a ball in the foot space underneath the desk. "Tim?" he asked. "What are you doing here so late?"

"Paperwork," he said softly. "Was doing paperwork."

"What happened?" Vance asked.

"D-don't know. Couldn't...couldn't take it...started crying..." McGee wiped at his eyes and sniffed again. "I just want Papa, but Papa's gone home."

Vance frowned. When McGee was like this before, Gibbs always called him Timmy. Maybe that would help soothe him, along with calling Gibbs. "I could call Gibbs, if you'd like? Get him to pick you up?" he offered. "Would you like that, Timmy?"

McGee just cried harder, and Vance felt no small amount of alarm. What had he done wrong?

"W-w-want...want Papa _an'_ Tony..." the boy cried.

_Ah_. So he was missing his friend as well. The stress of the job, no doubt, had exasperated the situation. "What time is it in France?" He checked his watch. It would be just after two in the morning. He doubted DiNozzo would be up at this hour. "I think Tony might be asleep right now, but I can still call Gibbs," Vance offered. "Would you like that?"

McGee whimpered and nodded.

Vance mirrored his nod and pulled out his phone, dialing Gibbs. "Bit late for a call-in, Leon," Gibbs said by way of greeting.

"Well it's not exactly a call-in, Gibbs," Vance said. "It appears that your SFA was doing paperwork and something hit a sore spot. Now Timmy is crying for you and DiNozzo. Only problem is it's two AM in France."

"I'll be right over," Gibbs said. "Can you keep him occupied until I'm there? He tends to wander off when worked up into too much of a state, and I don't feel like searching the whole Navy Yard for him."

"Of course I can keep an eye on him. How hard can it be?" Vance asked.

Gibbs just chuckled on the other end of the line. "Oh, you'll regret saying that, Leon," he said. "I'll be there in forty-five. Let me know if something goes wrong."

"Okay," Vance said. "Should I keep him in my office?"

"That's probably best," Gibbs said. "Talk to you soon."

"Yeah, talk soon," Vance said. He focused on McGee, who was staring at him with an intensity he hadn't seen in the agent before. He offered the agent a hand. "Hey, come on. We can wait for Gibbs in my office, sound good?"

McGee very gently took the hand and crawled out from under the desk. He stood, swayed a moment before mumbling, "Head rush," and walked with Vance away from the bullpen.

Vance didn't fail to notice that McGee kept looking at his briefcase. "Something catch your eye?" Vance asked casually.

"I can see my reflection in the lock," McGee said, pointing. "It's really shiny."

"I try to keep it polished," Vance agreed. "I want to look professional in all aspects of my appearance, including accessories."

McGee hummed. "That's cool," he allowed. "I like to show that I'm the boss casually, 'cause I didn't like it when Tony rubbed his seniority in. But you've got a good balance."


End file.
